


Battered Promises

by felixies



Series: Supernatural Imagines [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixies/pseuds/felixies
Summary: Imagine being woken up in the middle of the night to patch up the boys after a hunt.





	

The last time Sam and Dean came back to the bunker battered and bruised, you had to reset their arms and legs until Castiel came and healed them properly. How they were able to drive back in their conditions still eludes you. 

The last time you got hurt real bad was when you hunted down a skin walker. Your wounds festered and let's say the boys were generous with their bottle of whiskey to disinfect. The boys still wake up now and then to the memory of your caterwauling muffled through gritted teeth on a shirt rag. Again, if it wasn't for Castiel coming in a hurry to heal, you would be six feet under with the rest of the bottle’s contents poured over your grave in condolence. The last month has been like this, hunt after hunt, slices, cuts, broken ribs. You all were put under so many trials.

When the boys decided to go and hunt down a siren a week ago, they told you to sit this one out. “If anything, I’m the better fighter. You’ll need me. Plus, I won’t be swayed by the siren’s call,” you justify.

“Please, I can contain myself from a woman batting her eyelashes at me,” Dean jokes.

Sam smacks Dean on the back before adding on, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he keeps his pants on.”

With that image burned in your mind forever, the boys left in a hurry. Thankfully, this gave you some time to catch up on reading and sleep at the bunker. The first few days were quiet. Cataloguing artifacts, organizing the library, and tuning up the cars in the garage. With no word, no call on the fourth day, you start to get worried. Dean never picked up his phone, calls going straight to voicemail. Sam was no better. “We’re doing fine. Hold on, call you back,” from Sam did not cut it. 

You were readying the car, a slew of weapons and objects hauled in the trunk. You just packed your bag when you got a call from Sam. "What is happening? Why didn't you call back?"

"Sorry, we just got caught up in the hunt. We'll be over soon," Sam reassures.

"Look, I have the car gassed up ready to go. I'll meet you wherever you say," you offer.

"No! Just wait at the bunker," Sam coughs. "It won't take long."

It was 2 in the morning on the seventh day when you heard the doors to the bunker open and shut. Dragging feet and groaning reverberate through the hallways, waking you up. “Easy, Sammy. Just bring me to the chair.” Thump. “What gives? I told you to bring me to the chair, not drop me like a sack of bricks.”

“I can’t tell the difference,” Sam grumbles. 

Walking to the main room, your senses went into overload. The smell of blood is thick in the air. Sam is on a chair, leg bleeding and cuts all over his body. Dean looks worse, his right arm dangling uselessly next to his side, an eye shut tight from all the bruises on his face.

Grabbing the first aid kit, you yell over, "What the hell happened to you both? I thought it was just one siren?"

"Turned out it was a harem of sirens running the library," Sam explained, reaching for gauze.

"Of all places. Sammy couldn't stop getting claw marks. Those hot bookworms had a soft spot for you," Dean grumbles, his laughter causing more pain, coughing up blood onto the table. "Fix him first."

"No way, you look like crap. Fix him," Sam suggests as he starts sewing up his wounds.

Grabbing a small dowel, you tell Dean, "Open wide."

"Yes ma'am," Dean teases. Shoving the dowel in his mouth, you lean over him, your right hand resting on his shoulder with your left arm snaking around his right arm. "Make sure to bite down. Tight."

"At least take me out to dinner first," Dean flirts with the stick in his mouth.

Ignoring him, you look him straight in the eye. "On the count of-" popping his shoulder back into his socket. Dean spits out the dowel and writes in pain at the sudden surprise, his shock traveling down his arm.

He grabs your arm. "What the hell happened to counting to three?" Looking down, he realizes he grabbing you with his once dislocated arm. 

You explain, "You were better caught off guard. And besides. That is what you get for sewing up my wounds last week!"

Dean grabs for a swig of bourbon. "I don't know what you're talking about. I sewed you up nice and tight. The bleeding stopped. You're welcome."

You dab his cuts with rubbing alcohol, frustrated with his shortsightedness. Sam clarifies, "Yeah, but you used cinnamon dental floss as thread!"

"Call it being resourceful! It either that or rope we used to tie the demon," Dean argues.

"My wounds stung for hours!" you yelled, patching up the last of his bruises on his face. Standing up, finally done with Dean's cuts, you walk over to Sam, who is having trouble sealing up a wound on his back. "Here, let me."

"Thanks," Sam simply says, letting you clasp the needle.

"No problem. I was worried that you weren't coming back," you admit. The amount of scars on his weathered back are common badges for a hunter. Like Dean's. Like yours.

"Put more faith in us," Dean tells.

Snipping the string, you breath out a frustrated sigh. "I know, but this isn't the first time you've gotten close to dying."

"Don't forget us actually dying," Sam clarifies.

"More than once," Dean adds.

"Yeah, I know. I just get worried when I don’t hear any word from you.” You continue patching Sam. “Just get your recon right before you start," you suggest. "And call me if I'm not there. What's the point of leaving me behind if I can't be of use to you?"

"We didn't want you to get hurt," Sam admits.

"You've saved our asses so many times. You needed a break," Dean admits.

You push in, "But still, I know how you get when innocent people are on the line. You two always end up in trouble somehow. Please be more careful."

"We promise," Dean tells, looking at your sullen eyes from worry.

"What he said," Sam adds, finally seeing a smile appear. Small, but hopeful.


End file.
